


You're Tolerable.

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Pack Feels, kind of anyway, like a really begrudging comfort from jackson, packs there? but only mentioned, stackson or just bros, whichever you want man view it with shipper goggles if you wish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:11:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack's been getting closer over time, slowly learning to get along together and -heaven forbid- like each other. So when Stiles is getting picked on at school, Jackson may forget ever so slightly about the hate campaign he'd held against him for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Tolerable.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd appreciate any comments or suggestions you guys have! I needed a break from trying to write a long fic because it really wasn't working out for me, cry. In this one Jackson hasn't left because I still refuse to admit it. Warning, there is some swearing as you read, so be careful if that offends you!

Jackson had always had a thing about not being anybody’s family.

He wasn’t a part of his biological family, and despite his rich adoptees best money-throwing attempts, he’d never quite felt like part of their family either. If anything, Lydia would probably have been the closest thing he’d had to a family but it wasn’t the same (luckily, or else it would feel a little too close to incest for his taste).

When Derek had explained this whole ‘pack’ thing to him, Jackson scoffed and told him where to stick it. If he couldn’t find a family with people he’d lived with for the majority of his life, how was his supposed to find it with a bunch of misfit werewolves?

“But Jackson,” Stiles had asked him on the one occasion he’d actually posed the question, “You’re a misfit werewolf too! You’ll fit in perfectly!”

Jackson had rolled his eyes and wacked Stilinski hard enough to send him stumbling headfirst into a row of lockers.

But slowly, slowly it was starting to feel like this pack of misfit werewolves were…something. Family? He wasn’t sure. He preferred not to think about it too much (except for the fact he spent most nights lying awake until two or three in the morning thinking about it).

And it wasn’t just the werewolves. There was Allison, too. And Jackson had always been rather close to Danny (who was giving him some really weird knowing looks lately. He didn’t know, right? Right.) And then there was Stilinski. Whose jokes and falling over and failing at pretty much everything in general were no longer effecting Jackson as much as they used to. The kid was still annoying as hell (and yes, Jackson would refer to him as  kid, thank you, five months makes him older and therefore Stilinski is a kid okay?) but his annoyingness had started to be softened around the edges a little. Like Jackson found him annoying but in a- dear Lord- in a fond way.

He supposed that if you get close enough to anyone you eventually become fond of them a little. Even, God help us, Stilinski.

So when he was leaving detention one evening, sometime in winter when it was getting cold and dark and he really just wanted to get into his beautiful new car (dying and coming back to life has a few perks, like getting even more money spent on you) and drive to his big shiny house and crawl into his king size bed and sleep that chemistry exam off.

But as he headed towards the corner of the building around which his baby lay waiting in her parking spot, he heard some sort of commotion around there. Tuning in a little more consciously to his werewolf hearing, he listened carefully to see how many car robbers he needed to rip apart.

But it wasn’t a car robber.

“Guys, this isn’t funny. Back off, alright?”

Stilinski?

Someone snorted. “Yeah, you little shit, nowhere near as funny as your fuck ugly face. You know why I’m here?”

Quick sensory scan; he could sense four different heartbeats. Four on one. Chickens (at least when he used to tease the crap out of Stilinski it had only been three on one).

“I can guess. Did you enjoy paying that fine, huh?”

Scuffling sounds and a small grunt. Jackson chanced shuffling around the corner to see what was happening.

The whole little confrontation was happening a few metres away from his car. Two of the idiots had Stilinski pinned against the wall, holding his up by his arms. Jackson could probably sneak into his car without anyone noticing.

Ugh. No he couldn’t. He knew that he’d just feel bad about it. Stupid Stilinski.

“Your piece of shit dad charged me unfairly!” The guy in charge, stood in front of Stilinski whilst the left over guy stood at the side grinning at nothing like a drugged up idiot. Probably was a drugged up idiot.

Stilinski’s eyes’ widened and narrowed at the insult to his father and his fists clenched where they were held against the wall.

“You nearly fucking hit a kid, you fucking shit! My dad was just doing his fucking job so fuck off and learn to drive!”

Well shit. Stilinski was mouthy.

The guy’s stance tensed and the two holding Stilinski visibly tightened their hold, slamming his wrists back against the wall again. Jackson caught the wince and decided it was time to move.

The guy swung his fist back and slammed it into Stiles’ stomach, who grunted in pain and tried to double over, but was restricted by the chumps holding him.

“Give this message to your dad, you little sh-WARGH!”

Jackson grabbed the guys fist as he swung back to take another shot, and calmly twisted it until something cracked before letting go. Stilinski lifted his head, and stared at Jackson in shock.

“Let him go” he told the guys holding him, with a small smile. “Or else I’ll break both your noses.”

The guy on the left gave way first, dropping the kid’s wrist and running off around the building. The boy on the right did the same as soon as the first guy vanished, running round the opposite way.

The other guy was still on the floor, moaning, so Jackson stepped over him (being sure to trap his pinkie finger between his boot and the cement) and ignored the guy left- still grinning like a drugged up idiot, apparently not aware of what just happened.

Stiles was leaning against the wall, bent slightly forwards, with both hands wrapped around his waist. He was still looking at Jackson with shock, but also what looked like gratitude and…amusement?

“You alright?” Jackson asked, keeping a firm four inch radius between the two of them, but standing close enough that he could reach out and grab Stiles’ bag from the ground and heft it up onto his own shoulder.

Stiles nodded, now suspicious. “Why are you taking my bag?”

“So I can drive you home.”

“I got punched in the stomach, I didn’t have my arm broken. I can drive fine.”

“I’m driving you home.”

“Alright! Okay. Jheeze. Put the fangs away.”

Jackson reached up a hand, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t realise his fangs were out.

He shoved stiles’ bag in the back seat with his and took a moment to make sure his teeth were definitely no longer or pointier than normal. He got in the driver’s seat.

Stilinski was looking at him with a now weirdly sympathetic look. “It’s alright man. Scott couldn’t control his teeth for months after he got bitten. The amount of times I thought I was going to lose my jugular playing Mario Kart was beyond real.”

Jackson couldn’t help a small smirk at that picture as he sped out of the car park. He saw Stilinski wince as he tugged on the seatbelt, and bit his lip as hard as possible to hold in the question.

Shit. It didn’t work.

“Are you sure you’re alright? That hit looked hard.”

Stiles looked at his, with surprise on his face again. “Why do you sound so concerned? You don’t even like me.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Answer the question, Stilinski.”

Stiles rolled his eyes back so intensely Jackson was surprised and relieved when they returned to their normal placement. “Fine! It’s fine. Nothing worse than what I get when we train for lacrosse, anyway.”

Jackson frowned. “Lacrosse isn’t that bad. I barely feel it.”

Stiles was looking out the window. “Left here. And yes, but you’re a werewolf. You don’t feel it. A tyrannosaurus could step on you and you’d probably be able to walk it off. Besides, Donovan seems to really want me dead this year. I swear every time he’s within ten metres of me he tries to break my ribs with his shoulder. Last time I didn’t even have the ball, it was down at the other end of the field.”

Jackson’s frown furrowed deeper into his forehead. “Don’t be a pussy, Stilinski. Do… does he do it on purpose?”

“Well I would say so. I don’t want to complain though, Coach will just kick me off the team like that time I complained about James.”

“He kicked you off the team!? That was James’ fault! He threw the ball right at your face!”

Stiles laughed. “Tell me about it. It doesn’t matter, I’m back on now. Hey, I’m the next right.”

Jackson turned the corner, brain whirling. Goddamn it, he hated all these weird feelings. He felt all angry but he didn’t know why.

As Stiles opened the door, he paused to turn back to Jackson. “Thank you, by the way. I never said it. But thank you. I appreciate it, you could have just walked past and ignored it.”

Jackson shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. Then I’d have your sorry-ass face in my head all night.”

Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

“ _Not like that_.”

As Stiles went to shut the door, Jackson swore at himself and then called out.

“Stilinski? If those guys, Donovan and James or those idiots- if they give you a hard time, you should tell me. Or one of the others. Someone. You’re an annoying shit but you don’t have to take that.”

Stiles grinned again. “Thanks.”

“And I don’t hate you. You’re tolerable. I suppose.”

Stiles’ grin grew wider, and he nodded before ducking out, grabbing his bag, and leaping off to his front door.

If Jackson sat and watched until he saw the door shut safely, then fuck you. He fucking wanted to, okay?

He sighed in irritation as he started the car and drove away. Fucking pack emotions.

And if Stiles and Jackson didn’t argue much anymore, and Jackson shoved Stiles with just too little force to ever actually push him into something, and if they could sit next to each other and tease each other without it ending in a fight at lunch, then everybody said something. Literally everybody. Erica laughed, Boyd raised his eyebrow (counts as speaking for Boyd, c’mon), Scott patted them both on the back and said he was glad they were getting on, Derek stopped and told Jackson he was proud of him, Lydia kissed Jackson on the cheek and gave Stiles a sweet smile, Isaac hugged them both- it was fucking sickening. In a weird warm way that felt all nice inside. But still sickening.

And if Donovan and James had to miss a few lacrosse practises after Jackson tackled them both to the ground using just a little too much wolf power, well then everyone grinned and Stiles gave him a discreet high five when coach wasn’t looking.

Fucking pack. Making him do crazy shit. 


End file.
